I thought I had this mama thing down. Isn’t 12 years enough to get the hang of it? But I’m finding that I can never know enough. Once you feel you know something about parenting, the rules somehow get changed. The game goes into overtime. And I am left wondering what it is I need to know.

The goal now is to release my grip, just enough, to let go of knowing. Of needing to know. Of the thought that I truly know anything. I think its time to listen for a while. Be brave Mama and keep my heart open. Listen to my feelings. Listen to their words. Listen for their hearts to speak to me. Let my heart feel, so we can heal. Its up to Mama. “Tell Mama…”

There are rare moments in life when my title, Mama, feels too big to fill. This is that moment. Their eyes look to me with questions I cannot answer. And desires I can not fill. And safety I cannot assure. And predictions I can not promise. And despite the tunneled in struggles, I wouldn’t change my title for anything in the world.

All I can do is be true, to the best I know how. Without being too true. Isn’t this what parenting is? Teaching them about all there is to fear in the world, while simultaneously hoping they believe you when you say the world is a safe place? And yet, both truths are real.

I look around for guidance through this moment. But there are no answers. Because there is no real knowing. Ironically, I know this now. There is only now, and now, and now. On her best days, Mama leads with courage. For today my courage can be found in two words, “Tell Mama…”

~jrb

PRESS PLAY:

Jenny from the blog:

Like this:

All wrapped up into one petite package.
I’m a mother.
A woman.
Sister.
Daughter.
Friend.
Aunt.
Teacher.
Lover. All these descriptors are never changing. I am. All these things. But, am I a wife? When I say “we are separated” have I already lost this title? When do we stop being what we are?

There’s no mercy in a live wireNo rest in freedom at all.

Am I me, whoever that is, separate from 22 years, 2 children, 10 nieces and nephews, 5 cats, 11 years of parenting, 4 graduations, and 6 homes? Maybe its easy. Maybe I’m the old me. Maybe I’m the new me. Maybe there is no me at all.

Of the choices we are given it’s no choice at all.The proof is in the fireYou touch before it moves away.But you must always know how long to stay and when to go.

When change is all thats left to count on and talking becomes just stupid words of pride
It can take a while to understand…the beauty of just letting go.I’m gonna let me fly.

~jrb

PRESS PLAY:

Let Him Fly, Patty Griffin
Ain’t no talkin to this man
Ain’t no pretty other side
Ain’t no way to understand the stupid words of pride
It would take an acrobat, and I already tried all that so
I’m gonna let him fly
Things can move at such a pace
The second hand just waved goodbye
You know the light has left his face
But you can’t recall just where or why
So there was really nothing to it
I just went and cut right through it
I said I’m gonna let him flyThere’s no mercy in a live wire
No rest at all in freedom
Of the choices we are given it’s no choice at all
The proof is in the fire
You touch before it moves away
But you must always know how long to stay and when to go

And there ain’t no talkin to this man
He’s been tryin to tell me so
It took awhile to understand the beauty of just letting go
Cause it would take an acrobat, I already tried all that
I’m gonna let him fly
I’m gonna let him fly
I’m gonna let him fly

Jenny from the blog:

Like this:

PRESS PLAY:

When your own voice tells you its time to destroy somethingyou gotta listen.

The others will tell you violence was unnecessary. They will say you could have taken 3 deep breaths and fixed the problem.They will shake their heads and tisk-tisk.But when your own voice knows, she knows.

Window , Fiona AppleI was staring out the window
The whole time he was talking to me
It was a filthy pane of glass
I couldn’t get a clear view
And as he went on and on
It wasn’t the outside world I could see
Just the filthy pane that I was looking throughSo I had to break the window
It just had to be
Better that I break the window
Than him or her or meI was never focused on just one thing
My eyes got fixed when my mind got soft
It may look like I’m concentrated on
A very clear view
But I’m as good as asleep
I bet you didn’t know
It takes a lot of it away
If you doI had to break the window
It just had to be
Better that I break the window
Than him or her or meI had to break the window
It just had to be
It was in my way
Better that I break the window
Than forget what I had to say
Or miss what I should seeBecause the fact being that
Whatever’s in front of me
Is covering my view
So I can’t see what I’m seeing in fact
I only see what I’m looking throughSo again I done the right thing
I was never worried about that
The answer’s always been in clear view
But even when the window was cleaned
I still can’t see for the fact
That it’s so clear I can’t tell what I’m looking throughSo I had to break the window
It just had to be
It was in my way
Better that I break the window
Than him or her or meI had to break the window
It just had to be
Better that I break the window
Than miss what I should seeI had to break the window
It just had to be
It was in my way
Better that I break the window
Than forget what I had to say
Or miss what I should see
Or break him her or me
Especially me

Jenny from the blog:

Like this:

There’s something powerful about focusing on breath when the world feels like it is spinning out of control. The simplicity of what actually keeps us alive. Even when we feel like living is squeezing the life out of us. Just breathe.

Sometimes, though, its the focus on breathing that can make us feel like there is no more breath to be had. We panic as if we are going under, grasping at fistfuls of water. Still, there is nothing left to do, but just breathe, as if it’s working.

There’s a light at each end of this tunnel.And I’ve heard it’s no mirage. But perhaps the tunnel is. Its the light we breathe in. If we know that it’s there.

It’s 2 am and I can’t think of who to call. Maybe if I could catch my breath. Or remember who last called me in darkness, gasping for clarity. Instead, I just lay still, on hot sheets, listening for a loving voice. Reminding me of all I need to know. Just breathe, Jenny. Just breathe.

~jrb

PRESS PLAY:

Breathe, Anna Nalick2 AM and she calls me ’cause I’m still awake,
“Can you help me unravel my latest mistake?
I don’t love him. Winter just wasn’t my season”
Yeah we walk through the doors, so accusing their eyes
Like they have any right at all to criticize,
Hypocrites. You’re all here for the very same reason’Cause you can’t jump the track, we’re like cars on a cableAnd life’s like an hourglass, glued to the table
No one can find the rewind button, girl.
So cradle your head in your hands
And breathe… just breathe,
Oh breathe, just breatheMay he turned 21 on the base at Fort Bliss
“Just a day” he said down to the flask in his fist,
“Ain’t been sober, since maybe October of last year.”
Here in town you can tell he’s been down for a while,
But, my God, it’s so beautiful when the boy smiles,
Wanna hold him. Maybe I’ll just sing about it.Cause you can’t jump the track, we’re like cars on a cable,
And life’s like an hourglass, glued to the table.
No one can find the rewind button, boys,
So cradle your head in your hands,
And breathe… just breathe,
Oh breathe, just breatheThere’s a light at each end of this tunnel,
You shout ’cause you’re just as far in as you’ll ever be out
And these mistakes you’ve made, you’ll just make them again
If you’d only try turning around.2 AM and I’m still awake, writing a song
If I get it all down on paper, it’s no longer inside of me,
Threatening the life it belongs to
And I feel like I’m naked in front of the crowd
Cause these words are my diary, screaming out loud
And I know that you’ll use them, however you want toBut you can’t jump the track, we’re like cars on a cable,
And life’s like an hourglass, glued to the table
No one can find the rewind button now
Sing it if you understand.
and breathe, just breathe

Jenny from the blog:

Like this:

It’s not enough to be human, you know. Being human leads to disappointment and pain, to wounding ourselves and the people who are brave enough to risk loving us. Being human leads to devastation and longing. But it’s all we got. And love is pretty good.

As if humans are capable of proving anything important,people ask for proof that god exists. Show me proof that love exists. Or jealousy. Or the all-encompasing electric energy that invisibly entwines unexpected lovers. Or the nearly-tangible forcefield we encircle around our children. But, it’s better to feel pain than nothing at all. Simply, because we are human.

So keep your head up keep your love Keep your head up my love Keep your head up keep your love

It’s not enough to love, you know. To love requires deep, nourishing inhales and complete, liberating exhales. To love requires bravery without medals. Love requires a letting-go that simultaneously carves and heals your heart And a lonely knowing that there is no proof of the scars that hold you together. But, it’s better to feel pain than nothing at all. Simply, because love is what keeps us human.

~ jrb

PRESS PLAY:

Stubborn Love, The Lumineers
She’ll lie and steal, and cheat, and beg you from her knees
Make you think she means it this time
She’ll tear a hole in you, the one you can’t repair
But I still love her, I don’t really careWhen we were young, oh, oh, we did enough
When it got cold, ooh, ooh, we bundled up
I can’t be told, ah, ah, it can’t be doneIt’s better to feel pain, than nothing at all
The opposite of love’s indifference
So pay attention now, I’m standing on your porch screaming out
And I won’t leave until you come downstairsSo keep your head up, keep your love
Keep your head up, my love
Keep your head up, keep your loveAnd I don’t blame you dear for running like you did all these years
I would do the same, you’d best believe
And the highway signs say we’re close but I don’t read those things anymore
I never trusted my own eyesWhen we were young oh, oh, we did enough
When it got cold, ooh, ooh we bundled up
I can’t be told, ah, ah, it can’t be doneSo keep your head up, keep your love
Keep your head up, my love
Keep your head up, keep your love
Head up, love

Maybe it’s because I already had more than my share of saki at dinnerMaybe it’s because the bartender gave me a heavy pour of gin, with a wink.Or maybe it’s because, oh baby, the blues has has a way with women like me.

I let go. I let go of the creases around my eyes that squint into the future.I let go of the heaviness in my hips as they remembered their groove.I let go of the tears that cloud my sightI closed my eyes and saw the music.

Maybe it’s because, between sets, the drummer saw meand asked if I’m a drummer too. When I said “I used to be,” he said, “No. You still are. Have a good night, drummer girl.”Maybe it’s because my partner in crime smiled at me as I let myself go.Or maybe it’s because, oh baby, the blues has has a way with women like me.

Jenny from the blog:

Like this:

I’m letting the undertow take me.I’ve been fighting it
with fear
for so long.I’m going under.But I’m not giving up.I’m just giving in.

All that fighting never kept me from being pulled under anyway.

Now I can see that the undertow is predictableand will only take me to the oceanwhere my fears will either drown or float away.

There is a voice inside reminding me to hear the rhythm of everything.

The deeper I go
the quieter the waves become
when they break
over me.

~jrb

Never Let Me Go, Florence + the MachineLooking up from underneathFractured moonlight on the sea
Reflections still look the same to me
As before I went underAnd it’s peaceful in the deep
Cathedral where you cannot breathe
No need to pray, no need to speak
Now I am under all

And it’s breaking over me
A thousand miles down to the sea bed
Found the place to rest my head
Never let me go
Never let me go
Never let me go
Never let me go

And the arms of the ocean are carrying me
And all this devotion was rushing out of me
In the crushes of heaven for a sinner like me
But the arms of the ocean delivered me

Though the pressure’s hard to take
It’s the only way I can escape
It seems a heavy choice to make
And now I am under all

And it’s breaking over me
A thousand miles down to the sea bed
Found the place to rest my head
Never let me go
Never let me go
Never let me go
Never let me go

And the arms of the ocean are carrying me
And all this devotion was rushing out of me
In the crushes of heaven for a sinner like me
But the arms of the ocean delivered me

And it’s over
And I’m going under
But I’m not giving up
I’m just giving in

I’m slipping underneath
So cold and so sweet

And the arms of the ocean so sweet and so cold
And all this devotion I never knew at all
In the crushes of heaven for a sinner released
And the arms of the ocean delivered me
Never let me go

Jenny from the blog:

Like this:

Tilt-o-wheel, spinning off its axis. Watch it roll. Bouncy house, death-bound assent into the sky. Watch it fly. And all we can do is sing along.

La la la la la…

Like Bob Marley, I was born to bring the love into the living room. I can feel it sweating through my skin. Born to seek out illuminated soul fissures that sideways glances don’t notice. I can see them with eyes closed.

Heart break ruptures slowly. While sensuous smiles tease like evaporating water. Flavors never meant to mix swirl together like leaves in a wind tunnel.

Even with feet encased in dried mud, I try to move. And yet… It takes my own tears to melt the stones.

~jrb

Born, Over the RhineI was born to laugh
I learned to laugh through my tears
I was born to love
I’m gonna learn to love without fearPour me a glass of wine
Talk deep into the night
Who knows what we’ll findIntuition, deja vu
The Holy Ghost haunting you
Whatever you got
I don’t mindPut your elbows on the table
I’ll listen long as I am able
There’s nowhere I’d rather beSecret fears, the supernatural
Thank God for this new laughter
Thank God the joke’s on meWe’ve seen the landfill rainbow
We’ve seen the junkyard of love
Baby it’s no place for you and meI was born to laugh
I learned to laugh through my tears
I was born to love
I’m gonna learn to love without fear

~jrsb

Jenny from the blog:

Like this:

You can exhale, you can cough You can swallow, or get off You can lick, or go softYou can blow whats left of my right mind

Enter the future with a trampoline, slam-dunk bounce or a numbed-out drag.We make the choice again and again and again. We opt for the dragging so we can deny the choice.Its hard to be hard I guess. Or maybe we all secretly want to be dragged.

Breathe the future into me, love. Deep into my dirty lungs. Unfold the map so we can pretend to know where we are going. Faster, baby. I cant stand the speed limits.I could never get back up when the future starts so slow.

You can exhale, you can coughYou can swallow, or get offYou can lick, or go softYou can blow whats left of my right mind

~jrb

You can holler, you can wailYou can swing, you can flailYou can fuck like a broken sailBut I’ll never give you upIf I ever give you up my heart will surely failAnd after all God can keep my soul
England have my bones
But don’t ever give me up
I could never get back up when the future starts so slowNo longing for the moonlight
No longing for the sun
No longer will I curse the bad I’ve done
If there’s a time when your feelings gone, I wanna feel itYou can holler, you can wail
You can blow what’s left of my right mind
You can swing, you can flail
You can blow what’s left of my right mind
(I don’t mind)There’s a time for the second best
And there’s a time when the feeling’s gone
But it’s hard to be hard I guess
When you’re shaking like a dogYou can holler, you can wail
You can blow what’s left of my right mind
You can swing, you can flail
You can blow what’s left of my right mindYou can holler, you can wail
You can blow what’s left of my right mind
You can swing, you can flail
You can blow what’s left of my right mind
(I don’t mind)You can blow what’s left of my right mind
You can blow what’s left of my right mind
You can holler, you can wail
You can blow what’s left of my right mind

Jenny from the blog:

Like this:

“Don’t take my cigarettes. Jenny, please, leave my cigarettes.”

My freshman year fling begged me to allow him his only working addiction despite having painful bronchitis. I was just trying to help.
We sat in the dorm living-room watching late night tv. We had sniffed each other out amongst all the other partying, studying, trying-to-find-ourselves co-eds.
We were self-inflicted outsiders. We shared old halloween photos. Him as Sid Viscous. Me as Nancy. “Sid! What about the farewell drugs,” was super funny to us.

He was in recovery from so many things. Drinking, drugs, very messed up parents.
I looked for things to be in recovery from.
College is about the kegs. I liked sweet drinks. I’d drink my way around the dorm, play some ping-pong, and wind up in his room. He liked the taste of alcohol on my breath. We spent hours in painful, clothed make out sessions – just because it’s fun to want. We also got naked despite my brainwashed body image. But, I guess he had that too.

I lied to everyone about the nature of our relationship. I wanted my secret. My bitchy roommate liked to taunt me, “I know you’re fucking him.”
I just smiled.

He moved out of the dorm mid year. My first friend with an apartment. He fed me mac & cheese, teaching me to eat it white-trash style, with ketchup. We shared treasured writings and books. We explored each other as best as our 18 year old minds could figure. Mostly using examples provided by the media or porn.

He liked Morrisey and the Smiths. I liked Pink Floyd and Led Zeppelin. Almost a deal breaker on both sides. And yet, we liked hearing each other’s bad taste.

He drove me back home for an old girlfriend’s wedding. I wore my best hot-yet-appropriate blue summer dress. He gawked at me all dolled up. He introduced me to his mom. I was pissed off that there was no free booze at the wedding. We tempted fate driving back on the freeway. I wondered if he could drive the whole way with only his left hand on the wheel. He liked the challenge. I showed him what to do with his right.

There are moments we can feel free inside our boxed-in world.

We are told that secrets are lies, and no one wants to be a liar.
But I like to keep some things to myselfSometimes it’s our secrets that keep us real,
and whisper truths that, eventually, we can hear.

~jrb

PRESS PLAY:

Shake it out, Florence and the Machine

Regrets collect like old friends
Here to relive your darkest moments
I can see no way, I can see no way
And all of the ghouls come out to playAnd every demon wants his pound of flesh
But I like to keep some things to myself
I like to keep my issues drawn
It’s always darkest before the dawnAnd I’ve been a fool and I’ve been blind
I can never leave the past behind
I can see no way, I can see no way
I’m always dragging that horse aroundOur love is pastured, such a mournful sound
Tonight I’m gonna bury that horse in the ground
So I like to keep my issues drawn
But it’s always darkest before the dawn

Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh whoa
Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh whoa
And it’s hard to dance with a devil on your back
So shake him off, oh whoa

And I am done with my graceless heart
So tonight I’m gonna cut it out and then restart
‘Cause I like to keep my issues drawn
It’s always darkest before the dawn

Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh whoa
Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh whoa
And it’s hard to dance with a devil on your back
So shake him off, oh whoa

And it’s hard to dance with a devil on your back
And given half the chance would I take any of it back
It’s a fine romance but it’s left me so undone
It’s always darkest before the dawn

Oh whoa, oh whoa…

And I’m damned if I do and I’m damned if I don’t
So here’s to drinks in the dark at the end of my road
And I’m ready to suffer and I’m ready to hope
It’s a shot in the dark aimed right at my throat
‘Cause looking for heaven, found the devil in me
Looking for heaven, found the devil in me
Well what the hell I’m gonna let it happen to me, yeah

Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh whoa
Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh whoa
And it’s hard to dance with a devil on your back
So shake him off, oh whoa

Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh whoa
Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh whoa
And it’s hard to dance with a devil on your back
So shake him off, oh whoa

Jenny from the blog:

Like this:

I woke up early, with Freddie Mercury on the brain; his resonant voice echoing inside my mind.“Is this the real life…? ”Freddie and I have never been particularly close so his presence was curious. I was a bit embarrassed to to have felt visited by him, or at least visited by the energy that he embodies. Freddie Mercury – bold, brazen, impressive, self assured, diva. It felt as if I have something to learn from him. And, of course, to hear Bohemian Rhapsody as if it was plugged directly into my brain… Jeez. The power ballad that puts all others power ballads to shame. Yet, it was only the first 3 lines I heard this morning, over and over.

I got out of bed and communed with Freddie in the shower. The steaming water hit my chilled body. I closed my eyes and heard his voice, “Is this just fantasy caught in a landslide?” I thought about Queen. Brilliant band birthed at precisely the right place and time as if plotted on some universal timeline. They came to life unashamed. Unafraid. Creatively real in a fake, judgmental, square-pants world. Freddie was all up in your face with his bitchy brazenness. Like a bad-ass Elton John. “No escape from reality…”

I tend to be an open minded, accepting person. I pride myself on this. Yet, when reflecting on my life recently I am surprised by my own intolerance for certain human traits. To be specific, I am experiencing a serious lack of compassion for apprehensive lifestyles. Well, to but it more plainly – pussies. People who cant muster the courage to be themselves/do what feels true/act as they deeply desire. People who know how they want to live, but instead of stepping into the light, they self-suffocate in the darkness of guilt, shame and self-loathing; emotions that do not even belong to them. Emotions stemming from beliefs passed down from a long line of guilty, shameful, self-loathing loved ones. But, in the midst of my pointing fingers, I am left wondering if I can live up to my own ideals?

When Queen was in their hight of popularity I was in grade school. My newly divorced father played Queen’s hits (on vinyl of course) on his high-end turntable, through a pair of ginormous speakers while my brother and I pawned over album covers. Dad lived in an apartment decorated with potted cactus plants, behind the Tower Records off of Sunset Blvd. It was the 70’s, man. Even little kids like me could feel the sexuality that slithered around us as our parents tried to make sense of their own revolution. I can only imagine the inner warfare that must have torn at people back then, battling between being one’s true self and the self you were expected to be.“So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye? So you can love me then leave me to die? Oh, baby. Can’t do this to me baby. Just gotta get out, just gotta get right out of here.”

A wise voice recently reminded me that there are moments of grace when we are awakened to our own silenced, desperate longing. We suddenly feel compelled to move our unfulfilled, dim lives into light. But we freeze and are unable to step gracefully. These moments require a deep letting go. We must shed our pride, get down on our knees, and crawl from the shadows. Sometimes, that’s what it takes for our true path to come into view. People in recovery know this. Our ego gets in the way of our soul.

The path to our real life is there, waiting for us to simply (but not so simple-ly) open ourselves to receive what we are desperate for. Like a baby crying to be held. We need to accept that goosebumps come when warmth touches cold. We will shiver and doubt our motives. But, boldness is its own reward.

The queen of Queen reminded me, “Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy caught in a landslide. No escape from reality. Open your eyes, look up to the skies and see…” I know that my path will not be found by judging the choices of others. We all need to shed our skin. What I am getting closer to, however, is who/how I want to be. The visual is not yet clear, but my passion for boldness is overwhelming. The ways in which I will enter the light, whether it will be by leaping or crawling through self-created mud, remains to be seen. But, I guess the point is, to get there. “Any way the wind blows…”

~jrb

Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy? Caught in a landslide (no escape from reality) Open your eyes, look up to the skies and see I’m just a poor boy, (poor boy) I need no sympathy Because I’m easy come, easy go, little high, little low Any way the wind blows, doesn’t really matter to me, to me Mama, I just killed a man Put a gun against his head, pulled my trigger now he’s dead Mama, life had just begun… But now I’ve gone and thrown it all away Mama, oooooooh Didn’t mean to make you cry, if I’m not back again this time tomorrow, Carry on, carry on, as if nothing really matters Too late, my time has come, sent shivers down my spine, body’s aching all the time Goodbye everybody, I’ve got to go. Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth. Mama, ooooooh. (Way the wind blows) I don’t wanna die, I sometimes wish I’d never been born at all….So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye? So you can love me then leave me to die? Oh, baby. Can’t do this to me baby? Just gotta get out, just gotta get right out of here.Oooooh. Oh yeah Oh yeahNothing really matters. Anyone can see. Nothing really matters…… Nothing really matters…. To me. (Any way the wind blows)

Jenny from the blog:

Like this:

I see him coming towards me as I step off the curb. Random grungy guy opposite me in the crosswalk. His eyes locked in my direction. Muttering under his breath as he looks straight at me. Something that sounds a lot like “white bitch”. I am not in the mood for this bullshit today. Therefore, this moment is perfect.

Random greasy, fucked up, stinky dude. I want no part of your issues. But here we are. You have invited me in. Two strangers passing inside the lines. About to get to know each other. Timing can be curiously cruel.

Maybe I should be afraid of you. But, somehow, I am pissed. I could match your provocation; let my lower instincts rise. “WHAT THE FUCK YOU SAY TO ME?” comes to mind. The right to call someone Bitch must be earned.

You can see I’ve been simmering this morning,
long before our steps met. That is your gift. You spark the thirsty weeds on the hillside. And smile. Dropping stones into a puddle of mud. Just to stain a white girl’s skirt.

We ride on this frozen millisecond of interaction.My eyes dart from your glare to the Don’t Walk, flashing red.
I can feel your heat as you close in, daring me to engage.
At the last possible moment, just before you pass
A wave of humor overtakes me.
It’s all so absurd.
A tiny smirk engages my lips
and “Mornin!” is all I can think to say.

~jrb (aka, white bitch)

Jenny from the blog:

Like this:

PRESS PLAY. One of the most beautiful tunes I know :

Poets are sad because they know truths behind the truth. Like smokers, they flirt with the inevitable. Trying to control their fate with beautiful lies or brutal truths. You choose to judge them. Because you are afraid they may be on to something.

One, two, three, four, fiveonce I lived like I’m alive.

Liquid tattoos carved deep with invisible ink. Pain meshed with private beauty. That only love noticed once the beauty stripped down to naked pain.

Love, pain, sun, rain, alright

Six, seven, eight, nine, tenDid it before , do it again.
Gotta live alive.

Love, pain, sun, rain, alright

~ jrb

I‘m Alright, StereophonicsI’ll drink another drink for youOne, two, three, four, five
Once I drank a fish alive,
I’ll drop another pill for you
Six, seven, eight, nine, ten
Did it before, do it again
I’ll tell another joke you for you
Did you hear the one about the one that looks like you
I’ll sleep with sleep arounds for you
Why don’t you scratch my back and chew the tounge I chew?I’m alright
I’m alrightI’ll tell another lie for you
Tell you what you want to hear but that don’t make it true
I’ll wear another smile for you
That way you’ll know I’m fine and having fun with youI’ll draw another another line for you
That way you’ll know I’m hip, that way you’ll know I’m cool
I’ll smoke another smoke for you
I’ll blow back in your mouth and you can blow back tooI’m alright
I’m alright, you gotta go there to come backI’ll take another punch for you
Tie my hands behind my back that way you cannot lose
I’ll make another pound for you
So you can drive your motor car and drive you to the moon
I’m alright
I’m alright, alrightHappy, you’re free, alright
Love, pain, sun, rain, alright

I’m pretty sure there are moments directly above uswhen leaves let go. Falling, spinning, dancing in perfect, windblown gracebefore giving in and laying down.In a midair moment they flicker beauty.Simply to be seen.I’m pretty sure these moments happen just over our heads, all the time.

Jenny from the blog:

Like this:

We like to say that love makes us crazy. But thats a copout Love is what keeps us alive while living. It’s the parachute we hope will open. Love is the creamy frosting that makes us eat straight down to the cupcake wrapperand then lick it clean. Still, we have the nerve to blame love for our ravenous appetite.

Love is a beautiful, terrifying fucking adventure.We smirk like champions claiming we are ready to bungie jump into its dark, echoing canyon.We want it. We run towards it, and then tell it to scale the walls around our heart.Love doesn’t give a shit about all that.Love will hang out, sipping whisky and shooting pool, until you open the gate.

We fling our fear to release the pain.We blame our lovers.We blame our mothers Our fathers and the various assholes who have tried to show us the path into light via the shadows.We tighten up on our reigns for fear of runnin’ wild, runnin’ wild.It’s true.

But what we need – need – need – is to lick the frosting that is love.And know that the bruises on our heart are not caused by love, but actually, are healed by it.

~jrb

Jenny from the blog:

Like this:

It’s been a long time since my hater self has greeted me in full force. This side of me rarely makes a full-monologued appearance. Fuckin’ Monday.

This day has been brewing. Waiting for me to set myself up in just the perfect positioning to bring on the hate. It’s the inevitable challenge tossed at me for consistently preaching my truth, that all things have beauty and value and inexorable meaning and blah blah blah. Sure, I still have faith, somewhere inside. But today I am a Hater. And I’ve chosen to just let it be.

Feeling it deep in my chest like someone has bagged my heart in plastic and it is working too hard to breathe. Sensing that the world around me shrunk. Everyone is in my way. (Where the fuck am I trying to go anyway?) Too many assholes driving on my streets and no, I dont want fucking fries with that. All news is unbelievable bullshit which clearly means the world is out of control and destined to implode sooner than later. And, by the way, all music sucks. There is no pleasing a hater. But if you don’t try, you suck too.

I want to be like one of those movie characters who goes out in the gloomy night, distraught, and just starts running breathlessly, going nowhere, until she is soaked by tears and rain and finds herself completely lost. A not-so-subtle metaphor for the character herself. But still, we love that scene, because in that moment, she is a hater and doing the only thing she can to hate with all her heart while still wanting to believe in something.

Being in full hater mode makes me dislike pretty much everything about myself. So I hate even harder out in the world. I throw out “fuck you”s and senseless grumbles to people who barely deserve it. The people whom I know, will still love me tomorrow. And because of that, I hate us both.

The fact that it’s a sunny, windy, beautiful, perfect day makes it difficult to hate outside. So I imagine that I will stay in and close the curtains and pretend the world is worth hating. But the world, I instinctively know, doesn’t hate. And, I know that I still have some of my sense of humor, so all is not lost. And tomorrow is Tuesday. And if I had a dog he would lick my face. So, I will dig into my dark brooding hate today, and Fuck You Monday, I will wait to see what tomorrow brings. Maybe it will rain.

~ jrb

PRESS PRESS PRESS TO PLAY

E-Pro, Beck

See me comin to town with my soulStraight down out of the world with my fingersHolding onto the devil I knowAll my troubles’ll hang on your triggerTake your eyes and your mind from the roadShoot your mouth if you know where you’re aimingDon’t forget to pick up what you sowTalking trash to the garbage around youNa na na na na na naSee me kickin the door with my boots
Broke down out in a ditch of old rubbish
Snakes and bones in the back of your room
Handing out a confection of venom
Heaven’s drunk from the poison you use
Charm the wolves with the eyes of a gambler
Now I see it’s a comfort to you
Hammer my bones on the anvil of daylightNa na na na na na na
I won’t give up that ghost
It’s sick the way these tongues are twisted
The good in us is all we know
There’s too much left to taste that’s bitter

Jenny from the blog:

Like this:

“The boundary to what we can accept is the boundary to our freedom.”
~ Tara Brach

What does it take for a person to dive into their center? To really block out all the white noise voices we carry around inside our ears and enter our core? The part of us that speaks the real truth about our desires, our passions, and all the things we are afraid we may miss out on in this world unless we dive deep. Really deep. How many of us can say that we have volunteered for this journey?

My bet is that most of us think we know ourselves. And we do to a certain extent. We may know what we like. We may know what we think we have to do or be in life. But, I find myself now wondering, am I really content with floating on the relatively calm surface of my own deep ocean?

I was asked today if I have really ever dived into the center of my self. Do I know what the quiet ache in my gut is asking for? As someone who admires and strives for self-exploration I had to pause. I got chills. I suddenly felt nervous. Why is this a frightening prospect? What would I gain in this journey? What could I lose along the way?

The truth is an amorphous concept. One that shape shifts and alters itself within our ever-changing realities. People cry out for the truth when they think they are being lied to. Sometimes we crave the lies. “The truth will set you free,” we believe. But freedom can be a dominating force. After leading the Israelite slaves to freedom, Moses took a lot of heat for what freedom brought. Emancipation held no certainty, or security, or promise. It required risk, faith, lots of courage – and an appreciation for the lack of all they wanted.

The majority of people, when pushed to the edge, reach for stability – even if we bitch and moan about it’s entanglements. We all crave it. Freedom, with all its glory, is not stable.

To dive into our center, and risk finding the colorful whirlpool of authenticity within, is anything but safe. Yet, I have to believe it is freedom. The journey does not demand fearlessness. It requires us to be courageous. So the questions sit boldly in view, What do I need – Who do I need to be – to risk being free? And, am I willing to take that risk?